


Four Diplomatic Missions

by Persiflage



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Balls and Dancing, Clothed Sex, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Inspired by Photography, Kissing, Masturbation, Nipple Play, Philippa Being Playful, PoV Michael Burnham, Pre-Canon, Shenzhou Era, Vaginal Fingering, Wall Sex, Women in suits, diplomatic missions, dressing up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-19 01:21:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19346656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: Shenzhou era: Michael has taken the Diplomatic track and finds herself attending more balls than she ever expected. At least dressing up with Philippa is fun.





	Four Diplomatic Missions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Radiolaria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radiolaria/gifts), [nomisunrider](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomisunrider/gifts).



> This fic was inspired by [these photos of Michelle Yeoh](https://pers-books.tumblr.com/post/185683447514/guh-more-photos-of-michelle-yeoh-to-which) (the outfits Philippa wears in each scenario are in reverse order of their order in this post).

**One**

Philippa Georgiou, a wide, bright smile on her face, is waiting for Michael on the corner couch when she enters the lobby of the embassy. She feels a flush of heat when she sees Philippa’s faded blue jeans and a sea-green frilly sleeveless top, and feels overdressed in her own formal slacks, blazer, and tee.

“How did you get on?” Philippa asks immediately, skipping straight past the small talk as she gets to her feet.

“Good,” Michael says. “They seemed to really like my presentation, and Admiral Cornwell seems really pleased with their reaction.”

“Good. I’m glad.” She touches Michael lightly on the arm. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“You don’t want to wait for the Admiral?” Michael asks, surprised.

Philippa shakes her head. “We can catch up later. I figured you’d be hungry after being on your feet for so many hours, and I’ve found a nice little restaurant only a couple of blocks away.”

Michael nods, flushing again at the thought of having lunch with Philippa, just the two of them, and with the _Shenzhou_ and its concomitant concerns nowhere on the horizon, literally or figuratively. 

“Thank you, I’d love to have some lunch.”

“Good.” Philippa positively beams at Michael’s acceptance, then hooks her arm through the crook of Michael’s elbow. “It shouldn’t take us more than 15 minutes to walk.”

Michael feels flustered at the idea of walking down the street – in full public view and in broad daylight – with her Captain on her arm, but she’s not about to refuse, so she nods and lets Philippa guide her once they’re out of the embassy doors.

Philippa keeps up a running commentary of the sights they’re passing, but Michael’s in too much of a daze of longing to properly notice any of the things that her companion is pointing out, but she nods and smiles whenever it seems appropriate.

By the time they reach the restaurant Michael’s longing has intensified to such an extent that it takes her an unconscionably long time to place her order, but Philippa doesn’t seem to mind her hesitation.

The lunch that follows passes in a further daze and afterwards Michael can barely remember the taste of what she ate – Philippa’s in a very animated mood, and Michael has to make a conscious effort not to simply sit and stare at her Captain. She feels rather glad that there’s no further session this afternoon – she has a feeling she’d be useless.

Instead, Philippa leads her on a winding route through the city, Michael’s arm firmly in her possession, until they make it back to the embassy where they’re sharing a suite of rooms. Once there, Michael excuses herself to freshen up, and takes a cold shower to try to deal with how overheated she feels. She can’t quite resist giving herself a bit of relief while she’s there, allowing her fingers to graze lightly over the lips of her sex before she dips two inside. She braces herself against the wall of the shower with her left hand as she slides her fingers more deeply into her slick heat, and with the cold water beating down on the back of her neck, she swiftly uses calculated strokes to bring herself to a satisfying climax. Perhaps not as satisfying as it would be had another person’s fingers been inside her while their mouth worked her over, but such a thing cannot be, so there’s no point wishing or hoping for it. She will simply have to deal with the situation as best she can – as she always does.

**Two**

Michael sees Philippa’s reflection before she sees the woman herself. She’s barefoot and propping herself up on her side on her bed, her left hand teasing strands of her hair, which she’s wearing loose this evening. Her spike-heeled shoes are on the divan at the foot of the bed, and her expression is unguarded and pensive.

“Philippa?” Michael says softly, not wanting to startle her since she seems deep in thought.

“Michael.” Her pensive expression vanishes instantly, her wide smile seeming to fill up the room. “You’re looking very handsome tonight,” she says, holding out the hand that’s been toying at her hair.

Michael crosses the room to her bed and takes the hand, and without even thinking about the wisdom of the gesture, lifts it to press her lips to Philippa’s knuckles. She sees Philippa’s eyes widen, and hears her breath hitch the tiniest amount, but her Captain doesn’t object, and Michael helps her off the bed, then fetches her shoes. She kneels at Philippa’s feet and lightly taps her right ankle.

“Lift,” she instructs, and she could swear she hears another hitch in Philippa’s breathing, but she ignores it to concentrate on fitting her foot into her shoe and fastening the strap. Then she gets the other shoe on, before standing and dusting off her knees.

“Very chivalrous of you, Number One,” her Captain says, and there’s an emotion in her eyes that Michael can’t quite parse before it disappears, and Philippa holds out her arm to her.

Michael gives her an impish smile. “I thought it fitted with my role this evening,” she says, gesturing at the charcoal grey three-piece suit she’s wearing for the embassy ball.

Philippa chuckles. “Quite.” She nods at the door. “Shall we?”

“Let’s,” Michael agrees, and leads Philippa downstairs to the ballroom where they’re to have the honour (it feels a little dubious to Michael) of opening the ball as the chief representatives of the Federation at this conference. She doesn’t mind dancing with Philippa – positively and thoroughly enjoys it, in fact – but she doesn’t look forward to dancing with other people, except Admiral Katrina Cornwell, whom she’s grown to know quite well in the last few months. She can admit privately that she’s attracted to Katrina Cornwell, but she doesn’t pine for her as she does for Philippa.

As the elevator slows to a stop and prepares to disgorge them, Philippa tightens her grip on Michael’s arm for a moment. “Game face on, Number One,” she says lightly.

“Game face on, Captain,” Michael agrees, and adopts her most stoic Vulcan expression, making Philippa smirk at her briefly before she affixes a very pleasant smile to her face and lets Michael lead her out into the throng.

**Three**

“Someone’s in a fey mood this morning,” Michael observes of her Captain, noting the way the other woman has wrapped herself around one of the pillows on Michael’s luxuriant bed. She’s curled on her side, knees bent up, and her head propped on her right hand, while her left arm rests atop the pillow she’s appropriated. She’s watching as Michael removes her make up, and they’ve been talking over the ball they’ve just attended. It’s the fourth in as many months that they’ve been to together, and Michael has to remind herself that she’s the one who agreed to taking the diplomatic track after Philippa suggested it to her six months ago.

The Captain’s green dress is rucked up, showing a surprising amount of thigh, which is currently making Michael dry-mouthed and a little desperate for the other woman. She can’t quite decide which she wants more: Philippa’s mouth on her hot skin, or her hot mouth on Philippa’s skin. She just knows that she wants them to get naked together more than she’s ever wanted anyone sexually. It’s driving her just a bit crazy.

“Fey?” repeats the Captain, amusement colouring her voice. “Wherever did you pick up that one?”

“I read it somewhere,” Michael says. “And you're deflecting.” 

Philippa giggles, and when Michael swivels about on her stool and stares disbelievingly at her, puts a hand over her mouth and rolls onto her back, stifling her laughter poorly. 

“Who are you and what have you done with my Captain?” Michael demands, humorously. She gets to her feet and stalks across to the bed, planting her hands on her hips and biting back laughter of her own at the sight of her mentor. 

“Michael,” Philippa gasps. “You should see your face.”

“I see my face every day when I do my hair,” Michael retorts swiftly. Which just makes Philippa laugh even harder. She rolls about on the bed, laughing and flailing rather wildly, and Michael, slightly concerned now, reaches out for her arms. She abruptly finds herself pulled down onto the bed alongside her Captain, then suddenly Philippa has her pinned to the bed, straddling one of Michael’s legs while her hands firmly grip her wrists above her head.

“Philippa.” Months of desperate longing coalesce into that one word, her Captain’s name, and heat flares in the other woman’s eyes, then Philippa’s mouth descends on hers, kissing her with careless abandon. Michael easily frees her wrists from Philippa’s grasp and wraps her left arm across the middle of her Captain’s back, while her right hand tangles in her hair as she kisses Philippa with the same abandon.

Eventually Michael slides her hand down Philippa’s back, under the hem of her dress and between her thighs. She gasps in startlement when she discovers her Captain isn’t wearing any panties, and Philippa nips at her bottom lip. Michael moans in the back of her throat, a low sound that even she recognises is desperate. She slides her hand higher up Philippa’s thigh, and brushes the tips of two fingers against her sex.

“Fuck!” The gasped word seems to go straight to Michael’s core and she clenches her inner muscles in sympathy. “In me, love, please.” Philippa says, no begs – and Michael discovers that she really likes the thought of her Captain begging her for sexual release.

She easily pushes her fingers into the slick heat of Philippa’s sex, and the other woman moans very loudly in Michael’s ear. 

“Oh God, don’t stop.”

_More begging_ , Michael thinks, and begins to thrust her fingers in and out in a steady rhythm that has her Captain writhing and moaning, her mouth hanging open as Michael steadily drives her towards a climax that leaves her aching for such a powerful release for herself.

Philippa comes with a muffled cry, her face buried in Michael’s shoulder, and she strokes her through the aftershocks, gently easing her down from her high.

“Darling.” The word is uttered in Philippa’s throaty accent, and Michael thinks it’s never sounded better. “That was so good. Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Michael says quietly.

“No, your pleasure is coming,” Philippa says, and shifts so that Michael’s fingers slip out of her. “Let me return the favour, please, love.” 

“Oh, yes please,” Michael whispers gratefully.

Philippa unfastens her suspenders, then her suit pants, pulling them down her legs and dropping them onto the divan at the end of her bed. Then she leans down and kisses Michael while unfastening her button-down shirt, making the young woman moan when she brushes the pads of her thumbs over Michael’s stiff nipples through the fabric of her bra.

“Philippa!” Michael gasps, feeling a jolt of electricity shoot down her spine and into her sex.

“Yes, love?”

“More. _Please!_ ”

She utters a throaty laugh and Michael gives her a pleading look. “Of course, my love,” Philippa says, leaning down to kiss her while trailing a fiery path with her fingernails down Michael’s torso, over her belly, over her mound, and between the lips of her sex. The young woman can’t quite hold back a whimper as she eases her middle finger into Michael’s slick heat, then withdraws before sliding two fingers in the next time.

Michael does more than whimper when Philippa bends down and sucks on her nipple through her bra, flinging an arm over her mouth to stifle her sharp cry. 

“I want to get my mouth on you properly,” the Captain says, and Michael gets her bra unfastened, then drags it out from around her body, suddenly grateful that it’s strapless as she’s still wearing her shirt and it would only have gotten tangled up otherwise.

She has to press her arm against her mouth to silence another cry of pleasure when Philippa gets her mouth on her breast, biting lightly around the tip before laving it all around with firm strokes of her tongue, before she suckles energetically on her nipple. She repeats the process with Michael’s other breast, and the young woman can feel her arousal building to its peak. Then Philippa slips her fingers from Michael’s sex, eliciting a sob of frustration.

“Shh, shh, love, it’s okay.” Her Captain soothes her, cupping her cheek with her other hand, before moving to lie across the bed on her belly, and Michael moans loudly when she blows lightly across the lips of her sex. Then she fastens her mouth on Michael’s clit and sucks hard while pushing her fingers back into her slick heat, and Michael’s hips buck upwards off the bed as she shrieks in pleasure. 

Philippa sucks and thrusts and thrusts and sucks, and Michael gasps and moans as pleasure coils tightly in her belly and her sex, and then she’s coming so hard she feels as if her entire body is flying apart under the force of her orgasm.

Afterwards she lies on the bed, light tremors wracking her limbs, her cheeks damp with tears of release, and Philippa cuddles her close.

“Okay, love?” she asks tenderly, brushing the pad of her thumb across Michael’s cheeks.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome.” Philippa nuzzles the side of her neck, then asks, “Would you like me to stay?”

“Yes,” Michael says immediately. “Unless – that is, if you don’t think it would be acceptable –”

“I’ll stay, then.” The Captain cuts off her babbling with a grin, then helps Michael to sit up so she can strip off her shirt. Michael returns the favour by unzipping Philippa’s green dress, and feels her breath catch in the back of her throat when her Captain’s body is bared to her gaze, her nipples rosy and hard.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispers.

“Thank you, darling,” Philippa says. “You’re pretty gorgeous yourself.”

Michael pushes her shoulder, getting her to lie back so she can get her mouth on her lover’s breasts.

“Weren’t we going to sleep?” Philippa asks, sounding rather breathless.

“Were we?” Michael asks, lifting her head to direct the question up her Captain’s body as she laps at her nipple.

“I thought – Ah!” Her words are cut off when Michael bites down carefully on Philippa’s breast, before she laves the area with her tongue. She reasons that what worked so well on her has a good chance of working equally well on her lover.

“What did you think?” Michael asks, amusement tingeing her words.

The other woman gives her a blank look, desire glazing her eyes. “What?” she manages.

Michael chuckles, then begins kissing a trail down her body, before stretching out between Philippa’s legs. She nudges her clit with her nose as she licks long strokes up through the folds of her sex, and she smiles when she hears the mewling noises of pleasure that her lover is making as she licks and sucks and bites, driving Philippa closer and closer to her climax.

The sound of her Captain’s cries as she orgasms are quite simply beautiful, music to Michael’s ears, and she delicately strokes the tips of her fingers across Philippa’s thighs as tremors wrack her body. Then she shifts up the bed and cuddles up close.

“Okay?” she asks softly.

“My darling girl, that was magnificent.” The throatiness of Philippa’s native accent seems exaggerated after her orgasm, and it gives Michael a thrill to know she’s done this.

After a few minutes of cuddling they crawl under the covers and snuggle up together, and Michael thinks she’s never been happier than she is tonight.

**Four**

Michael finds Philippa up on the roof of the hotel, one foot propped on something at the base of the low wall on which she's perched, the other propped on the wall itself. Her lover is showing off her incredible legs, and Michael can’t help thinking that she’d very much like to ravish her Captain right now.

“Enjoying the view?” she asks, looking briefly at the rooftops ahead of their position. 

“I am now,” Philippa agrees, looking Michael up and down. 

Michael raises a singular eyebrow. “You are so corny, Captain.” 

“Me, Number One?” Her tone of faux innocence makes Michael roll her eyes. 

“Yes, Philippa, you.” 

Her lover snorts, then chuckles. “Guilty as charged,” she admits, “but you do look fantastic tonight.”

“Thank you,” Michael murmurs. The gown that Katrina helped her to select is a floating, delicate creation with three layers of gauzy blue fabric that shimmered in the lights of the ballroom where they were dancing earlier. Kinzuma society is deeply traditional so for Michael or Philippa to have worn a pant suit this evening would have been scandalous, and since they're here on a diplomatic mission, adhering to the local customs was not optional. 

Philippa's dress is somewhat less gauzy, though still not very substantial, and is paired with silver stilettos which Michael would have considered impractical for dancing in had she not seen her dancing very energetically in them this evening. 

Philippa holds out a hand, eyebrows raised, and Michael steps into her personal space, taking her hand and lifting it to press her lips to the palm. Philippa's breath hitches, and the heated look she gives Michael makes the young woman feel as if she will melt onto the paving stones beneath her feet. 

Philippa tugs lightly on her hand and Michael closes the remaining distance between them to lean in and press her lips lightly to Philippa's mouth. 

“Michael,” she says in an admonishing tone. “You're being a tease tonight.” 

“Philippa, is this really where you want to stage a make-out session? We have a positively luxurious suite downstairs, why don't we make use of that? This rooftop is hardly salubrious.” 

Philippa makes a tsking noise. “So picky, Number One.” 

“So unromantic, Captain,” Michael retorts with a smirk. 

Philippa chuckles again. “Very well, Commander, your logical argument has persuaded me.” 

Michael snorts. “That wasn't Logic, it was mere practicality.” She assists Philippa down from her perch, then leads her through the door and along to the elevator, descending the three floors to their suite.

The door has barely closed behind them before Michael presses her lover up against the wall to kiss her heatedly, making up for being ‘a tease’ when they were on the roof. Judging by the noises Philippa is making she considers this more than adequate recompense, and Michael can’t help pressing a thigh between her legs, making her Captain moan even more loudly.

“I’ve never fucked anyone against a wall before,” Michael observes a few moments later as they catch their breath.

“It’s certainly easier if it’s two women doing it,” Philippa says, then moans when Michael dances the tips of two fingers up the length of her sex with only the thin silk of her panties between them. She positively groans when Michael’s fingers then slide back down her sex, before dragging slowly back up again. 

Then Michael pushes the fabric aside and slips two fingers into Philippa’s sex, even as she presses her mouth against her lover’s, kissing her hungrily.

The somewhat wild sound of pleasure that this elicits simply spurs the young woman on, and she soon begins to thrust her fingers in and out of Philippa with rapid strokes, and her lover groans into Michael’s mouth as she drives her closer and closer to an orgasm.

Whenever Michael watches Philippa climax it feels like a huge privilege – the other woman is so beautiful and her orgasms always seem incredibly intense. When Michael compared it to watching a supernova the Captain had laughed, but she’d meant every word of it, and she stood by it still: Philippa in the throes of climaxing is a truly gorgeous sight. 

Michael eases her away from the wall and guides her across to the bed, helping her to sit on the foot of it before she kneels on the floor and removes Philippa’s shoes, then helps her to stand again and slips off her dress, bra and panties, then assists her to lie down properly on the bed. She undresses herself, watched sleepily by her lover, then climbs into bed beside her.

“I should return the favour,” Philippa observes.

“I can wait,” Michael assures her. “I don’t mind.”

“Mmm.” Her Captain nuzzles the side of her neck, and Michael smiles unseen, then wraps her arms around the other woman. “Are you sure, Commander?”

“One hundred percent,” Michael tells her.

“Okay, then.”

“Go to sleep, Philippa.”

The Captain hums sleepily against her neck, and Michael feels her limbs going slack, and notes her deeper, slower breathing, and smiles to herself. She has no doubt that Philippa will more than make it up to Michael for the delay, which is why she doesn’t mind waiting until the morning.

Life is good, she decides sleepily.


End file.
